


And after all...

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-31
Updated: 2006-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: 1. 'It's just sex.' he said somewhere in the vacinity of your neck - you wonder who he's trrying to convince.2. 'I’m always here, right? I never flicker or fade or… even for a moment?"





	And after all...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Review! <3  


* * *

1\. _said maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me_  
  
‘I don’t love you,’ he said. You frowned, squinting through the darkness at the silhouette of his face, which was resolutely staring at the ceiling.   
  
‘Okay.' Your mouth still tasted sour from when he came in it earlier, and you desperately wished you could get up and go brush your teeth. There was a movement, and then Brian was facing you. His breath was fine, you noted absently; he had been smart enough to use his hand instead.  
  
‘It’s just sex,’ he continued. You weren’t sure if he was even aware that you were still in the room. ‘You don’t have to love someone to have sex with them.’  
  
‘I guess.’  
  
Another rustling of sheets and there was a Brian invading what you definitely considered to be Your Space. He deftly wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer and contradicting everything he’d just said with a solitary gesture.   
  
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way; no matter what he wanted to believe, you never meant for it to happen this way. He had simply asked, ‘what’s wrong?’ and you should have lied, should have said ‘nothing.’ But there you both were, standing in the middle of the kitchen while the rain pounded a steady rhythm against the window, and he was standing close enough for you to smell the orange he had eaten earlier.  
  
So you grabbed him with more force than you intended, pulling him into a tight embrace. Clinging, almost. Desperate. And you thought, maybe, just maybe, if you hold him tightly enough, you’d meld into one person. Then you’d always be with him; you’d always feel safe.  
  
‘Just sex,’ Brian mumbled again somewhere in the vicinity of your neck, and you wondered who he was trying to convince.  
  
You sighed and said, ‘I love you, too, Brian.’ He just grunted.  
  
And in that moment you knew that as long as this could go on forever, as long as the sun never rose, you’d be alright.

2\. _real. real like a plastic bouquet._  
  
‘I like it when it rains,’ you admitted to him after a few too many drinks one night. Normally, you’re not such a depressed drunk, but this was a depressing kind of week. ‘I like it because it makes me feel more real, like I’m actually here. Sometimes I feel like I’m not so sure.’  
  
‘Stop being such a girl,’ he told you. You sighed and kept to yourself that his eyes reminded you a little of rain, so when he looked at you, the ground beneath you felt more solid, your own existence more tangible. He regarded you with a look of vague concern, but not worry; never worry. _You’re_ the one who always worried.   
  
‘Brian,’ you said then, picking at imaginary lint on your shirt. The little rational part of your brain spoke up from some dark corner where you thought you’d lost it long ago, telling you not to do this; you were too stupid, too drunk, too sad. You ignored it as usual. ‘I’m always here, right? I never flicker or fade or… even for a moment?"  
  
He was suddenly serious. You knew this because he had that look on his face, the one he got that time he thought Mikey was dead or the time that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get that stupid 'i love you' out. And then he was grabbing your face, roughly pulling it to his and pressing your mouths together in a sloppy, forceful imitation of a kiss.  
  
‘Was that real enough for you?’ He pulled back, studying you through narrowed slits. Bits and pieces of your world began to fall into place around you. Reaching out, you poked the side of his face with a finger-he smiled a soft, sad smile. Soft like those afternoon showers in the springtime that make you feel like everything is right and very, very real. Sad like you were at the moment.  
  
He was still looking at you expectantly, but not-for once-with any shred of impatience. You nodded.  



End file.
